Denial
by muselover11
Summary: After 13 discovers she has Huntingtons, it seems like denial is the only escape mechanism she can find. But could the innocence and courage of one doctor in particular help her accept her fate? cam/13, possible Hilson later. Rated M for later chapters
1. Intro

Pairings: Cam/13, Chase and his beer, Foreman and his ego, Taub and his anonymous wife, Kutner and his fruitloops and TV, Cuddy and her low cut tops, and maybe a little Hilson.

The paper shook in her hands, wobbling as she tried to focus her vision on that one line. She read it over and over again, like an OCD patient, the words never changing, the bold scarlet ink mocking her.

Huntington's--POS

The paper seemed surreal, as though after fighting with the possibility for so long she had made it seem improbable. The entire night was surreal; House in a coma, young terminal Amber lying on a hospital bed on dialysis, and now this, the paper that revealed what she had denied for so long.

After the initial shock wore away, her wide oceanic eyes resumed blinking normally. Her hand stopped shaking. Coming to grips with Amber's death had not prepared her to face her own. All she could think about mortality. How fragile life was, how people denied death by postponing realization of it until an age deemed appropriate to die, and how she could no longer do that.

_I shouldn't have done it,_ she thought. But she didn't really think the test would come out positive. She wasn't being hopelessly optimistic, that was Kutner's job. She was just not prepared to cope. She broke down. Her face twisted in agony as she sobbed, her head pressed against the hard oak table. Her hand still clutched that damned paper, crumbling it into a small ball as she let it carelessly fall to the floor.

Now she knew. And there was no going back. Hadn't she once told House that if she knew she had Huntington's, there were certain things she wouldn't be able to do anymore?

_Loving anyone but myself, even if I knew how, that's something I'll never experience,_ she thought. While Wilson and Amber sat in the same bed, his soul dying with hers, she knew she could never put herself through that, nor would it be fair to drag someone else through an 

inevitably ill fated romance. In a way, she both envied and pitied Amber. They were in the same situation, only hers a bit more urgent, and she would die with someone she loved holding her. 13 broke down again.


	2. Confession

**Authors Note: No, 13 and Cameron are not just going to hop into bed. Yet. Let me build their characters a little, jeez. Don't worry, there will be plenty of Cam/13 interaction soon.**

The image of House reflected in her eyes.

_He looks so old_, Cameron thought. Not in a cruel way, just in a simple, objective way. Nearly risking his life for Wilson's girlfriend was a noble task she would have never thought House capable of. And now he looked so _sick. _Her pity went out to him, but she knew any sympathy she offered him would probably be rejected or else appreciated and then later mocked with contempt once he felt better.

So she watched him from afar as Cuddy's fingers entwined with his own.

"Blink if you can hear me", Cuddy said, leaning over House's bed. Cameron's heart did not leap like she thought it would when House responded to her voice with a single, bold blink. Relief was evident in Cameron's sigh, but for some reason that feeling of intense panic was not there like it had been when he'd recovered from being shot. The feelings she felt for House were finally dwindling. He no longer possessed her.

_Maybe it's because I know that no matter how bad I feel for him, it is meaningless to care for him_, she thought. She admired Cuddy's ability to care for him even when he resented her, but that's because her love was more maternal.

_Maybe I'm just too damn needy_, Cameron thought, _and I'm finally getting sick of needing to be needed. _She contemplated the possibility and decided it was quite likely that she was the one who was changing, not House. Cameron no longer felt that attachment. It had been broken by mounting bitterness.

_I don't love you anymore. I've moved on._

And that is why, when the image of House reflected in her eyes, and when he gave her a faint smile, her heart did not leap. And the smile was not reciprocated.

"How's House doing?" Kutner asked, balancing his cell phone with his shoulder while he persisted in eating his fruitloops while watching cartoons. He told himself that he was only indulging in cartoons as a way to distract himself so he wouldn't worry about House and Amber. Nevermind that he had SpongeBob on his DVR schedule.

"He's conscious and a little out of it," Thirteen said. She remained in the same room where she had tested herself for Huntington's. She felt trapped. She needed someone to retrieve her, to get her out of the room and back into reality. That's why she had flipped open her cell phone and called the one 

person she thought could understand her just a little. Optimistic Kutner, surely he could think of something to say.

But at that moment, her pale lips opened to spill everything thought she had contained for the past several hours when she froze. The breath she had taken held tight in her chest. Words escaped her.

"I'll be over there soon to check on him," Kutner said. Thirteen nodded, still immobilized. The denial kicked back in.

"Okay," she said.

"You're a real fighter," he said. Thirteen nearly dropped the phone in shock. It was like he knew. First the bisexual thing, now Huntington's. How did everyone just accurately predict these things about her?

"What do you mean?" she said, he voice raising a pitch.

"I mean, you've been at the hospital for awhile. Nearly everybody has gone home for some rest. You should take a break, I'll be there soon."

"Oh," she said. _Of course._

"Bye," she said hanging up the phone. She sat back down, absorbed in denial. The test was wrong. It had to be. Yet she refused to retest herself. To do so would mean that she had to accept she had Huntington's. And that there was no one-in-a-thousand chance that the test wrong. A retest was a bad idea.

She sat there and debated calling Taub, but restrained herself, knowing full well that he was probably preoccupied with his wife. He'd be polite if she called, even more polite if she told him what she had just discovered, but she knew he didn't really want to hear about her problems. He didn't _relate. _No one could get inside her head and help her cope. Her mom was gone, her father was an illusion, and she had no one to depend on. Ordinarily this fact did not bother her in the least, but now…the realization was just so new. She'd never been fully cognizant of just how helpless she was. She stared at the tiny crumble paper on the floor, the cause of all this panic and emotion. She focused on it, almost meditating in a subconscious way, reviewing what had happened over the last few hours in her mind, when the phone in her hand vibrated.

It was House.

Gregory House faded in and out of sleep for several hours. A combination of the drugs, the stress, and his injury caused him to evade consciousness through slumber. Although that didn't prevent 

him from picking up his cell in a disoriented and baffled state and dialing the first number in his address book.

Which happened to be Doctor Remy Hadley, a.k.a., listed under "13".

Just as she was about to follow Kutner's advice and go home for rest, the phone vibrating in her hand alerted her to other matters. Her boss was sick. He was calling _her _for help. He was sick too and he…needed her? Dr. Gregory House was actually reaching out to another human for contact? He was showing his helplessness?

"Hello, House?" she said

"Auwahaawa," he said, making an illegible noise sound perfectly sane, even consistent with his cynical tone.

"House?" she repeated," Are you okay?"

Again he murmured unintelligibly, infrequently releasing an actual word scattered amid a series of odd grunts. Thirteen rushed towards his room, still listening to him on the phone. Eventually she understood the words "get me out of here."

"House, I can't do that," she said, pausing as she approached his room. She looked at him slouching up on the bed, medicated and staring at the phone as though it was some kind of new technological invention, and Thirteen had just apparitionated out of it. She flipped her cell phone closed, and they made eye contact.

"You're sick," she said.

"I know," he said, sounding normal enough.

"I'm sick too," she said, not elaborating. She allowed the words to infiltrate the absent air, and it seemed such a morbid thing to say. Her tone was not harsh, but not Cameron-sensitive either. It hovered ambivalent between caring too much and not caring enough.

"You're sick too?" he asked. He appeared to be contemplating.

"Why are you sick? I mean, I kinda just got electrocuted. It would be cool if it didn't suck so much. But why are _you_ sick?"

"I took the test."

"What test? _That test_," he said, realization breaking through his drug induced hazy mind. Thirteen sighed. A part of her was relieved, to have at least told someone, even if it was her injured, drugged up, cynical boss. A part of her was sad too, because she wasn't sure if she wanted to reveal her illness yet and because she was a little ashamed she'd taken the test. She stood up to him so boldly months ago when she threw the test results he'd taken without her permission in the trash and told 

him she didn't want to know. Now she had just revealed that she had been frantically anxious to know and that she was not brave like she had once portrayed herself to be.

And a tiny fraction of her was embedded in denial, screaming LIAR! YOU'RE A FILTHY LIAR! YOU'RE NOT SICK YOU FEEL JUST FINE!

This was the part of her that previously controlled her decision not to get tested. Now it was overruled by the relief of knowing, even if the knowing meant accepting an inevitable brief lifespan. But still, that small part of her that would never accept it had been what kept her going. And now it was gone. She wanted to collapse, to retreat back to the test room, to play the whole scene in reverse, right to the point where she ripped the paper out of the machine.

No, before that. Before Amber got on the bus, before her mother died, before her father-

_You can't rewind_, she told herself again. She'd played this game so many times as a kid she thought she'd never forget the rules, but she had. You can fast-forward, pretend that the bad times are all gone, but you can't rewind. When her mother was sick all the time, she would fast-forward in her mind. Pretend she was all grown up and she was a doctor who could make her mommy better. The other doctors couldn't, but that is because they didn't know her good enough, didn't love her. But Remy could. Dr. Remy Hadley could make her mommy all better one day.

But it happened too fast. Her mother died. And she couldn't rewind.

"Thirteen" a soft voice said, angelic in tone. She looked up at House who remained silent, but motioned his head to the doctor behind her.

"Dr. Cameron" she said, her voice was slightly surprised, and she wondered when Cameron had walked into the room.

"I'm sorry I don't know your real name," Cameron said.

"Thirteen is fine," she said.

"Cuddy said Kutner is on his way here and she insisted I tell you to go home and rest."

"Okay." Thirteen looked at House, pleading with her eyes for him to say something, even if it didn't mean anything, something just for her that she could hold on to.

"I didn't know," he said. She nodded. That was good enough.


	3. Old Habits Die Hard

**Author's Note: Will update soon, possibly the end of this week.**

"What was that all about?" Cameron asked.

House sat there staring at the door after Thirteen left. He had managed to ruin three lives in one night. Amber was dead, Wilson wanted to be dead, and Thirteen would never be able to function normally knowing she was going to die. It was enough guilt to make someone want to up the painkillers to lethal doses. But he somehow managed to refrain from doing so.

"Nothing," House said. Cameron glared at him, annoyed at his consistent secrecy. She pestered him again.

"Thirteen seemed pretty upset. You're not taunting her with the bisexual thing again are you?"

"Damn, I knew there was something I was supposed to do before she left."

"House" Cameron said, tilting her head to the side in what House had to admit was the most adorable pout ever.

"Cameron," he whined.

She crossed her arms angrily. "Why was Thirteen upset?" she asked.

"That time of the month?" he said.

"That's not why Thirteen was upset."

"No, I was actually asking you a question," he retorted. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm not going to play your game, House. If you won't tell me, that's fine. I have to go back to the ER-"

"Cameron," he said, in a serious tone this time.

"You seem fine enough. Kutner is almost here to look after you."

As she walked out, House muttered something about how sensitive women were. He massaged his temples. The fluorescent light was irritating his eyes. He groaned, since Cameron's departure meant he had time to think about all the crap he had pulled, and Kutner's arrival meant House had to hear about fate and the ethics of forgiveness that he would probably swarm him with.

"There is such a thing as Karma," House muttered.

* * *

Thirteen almost reached the exit doors. She passed Kutner along the way, and she gave a brisk nod as they exchanged greetings while walking. Then she saw Cameron again, her face full of worry.

"Thirteen," she said, still a little uncomfortable that she didn't know or couldn't recall Dr. Hadley's real name.

"Hi," she said. Her tone implied that she obviously did not want to stay and chitchat.

"I know you're supposed to go home and rest but I was wondering if you could help me for a second with-"

"I can't," she said. Honestly she didn't think she could. She didn't mean to come across as rude, but she couldn't bear to be in that hospital another second. _I'll probably kill someone by accident in my current state, _she thought.

"Okay," Cameron said in a quiet voice, like a scolded child. She turned around to go back to her work.

"I'm sorry," Thirteen said as she turned to leave. Cameron recognized her sincerity, and turned around for a second to tell her it was okay, but she had already rushed away. Cameron felt uneasy.

_It's not my job to care about everybody,_ she reminded herself. But she couldn't help but fall into that familiar trap. In the back of her mind, she kept thinking off and on about Thirteen. Then she started thinking about the funny way she had been acting around her.

_Why did I ask her for help in the ER? That was stupid. She was tired, and I didn't really need the help that much._

Cameron's distracting thoughts of Thirteen were suppressed during her shift, but not during that night. She found her previous concerns about House diminishing, substituted by her newfound sympathy for Thirteen and whatever it was that was bothering her. She wanted to be so upfront as to just ask her. Interrogating House would be useless. He'd just use the information to torture her or tease her.

Eventually, Cameron tried to go to sleep and reminded herself that _it's not my job to care about everybody_, a new motto she was quickly failing.

* * *

Thirteen was not a drinker, but that night, she indulged. It wasn't that the alcohol made her feel loopy and good inside, nor was it that it had the mystifying power of making her forget everything that had happened that day, but the pointlessness and irony of life that made her drink and drink herself sick, even when she really didn't want any more.

_Amber had one drink and gets on a bus and dies. House drinks himself into a stupor and he's sitting there alive. Amber took care of herself, had ambitions. House…_

Her thoughts jumbled, but she did manage to make the connection that she saw herself in Amber. She was that young, ambitious doctor who was going to die before her time while drunk, pill-popping House would outlive them both.

It's not that she resented House. She may have even loved him a little, in a dysfunctional mentor/student relationship that mimicked the kind of relationship she would have liked to have with her father, minus the sex jokes. It's just that it wasn't fair that she was gone. And since Thirteen had placed herself in Amber's shoes, the realization came to abruptly that it was possible for her to die. In a way, a part of her had died with Amber. The part of her that still possessed hope.

She felt confused as she gripped the glass to pour more of the burning liquid into her system, hoping to dissipate all of her mixed feelings and find temporary peace for the night. She stared at her phone, waiting for a call from loved ones that were past away or never existed at all. It was a scary thought, probably induced by the alcohol, but she recalled an episode of the twilight zone where a woman received phone calls from her dead husband. It always haunted her, late at night, wondering what her mother would say to her if she could contact her, if there was somewhere else after this. Now she knew.

_She probably would have warned me of what was to come. Warned me of the truth I stubbornly denied! Told me how foolish I was to dedicate what little time I have to others instead of actually living life. That's what she would have told me._

"But a simple I love you would suffice, "Thirteen said to her thoughts. That's what she wanted to hear. Deep inside she knew it, a desire long suppressed by denial. But the phone remained silent, hidden by silhouettes in her dark room. The silence and the alcohol combined drove her thoughts devoid of all sense as she cried into her pillow, thinking of so many faces, names, and memories that could fill a lifetime, and feeling such a sense of _loss, _because those things would be ripped from her forever, just when she was ready to start trying to branch out and focus on other aspects of her life besides work.

_I was,_ she swore to herself, _I was almost ready. But now, what's the point? What's the fucking point?_


	4. Thirteen's Secret

**Author's Note: hangover + impeding doom Thirteen! BTW, at this point I'd like to clarify that in the story House is pretty much physically stable again. I would say mentally stable too, but let's face it, the man is never mentally stable.**

"If the room could just stop spinning, long enough for me to get dressed, I'll go to work," Thirteen said, as though trying to make a deal or a compromise with her hangover. But the room did not comply with her wishes, and she still had work obligations to fulfill. She groaned as she sat up, the sunlight pouring into her room through her large glass door that led to the backyard, filled with weeds and stray cats. Pain shot through her skull as the effects of last night's alcohol took hold of her ability to cognitively function, or rather, her _inability_ to cognitively function. She yanked the curtains closed and then endured her usual morning routine that seemed to last ten times longer than usual. She was fine, a little worse than usual but fine, until she entered the bathroom. She peered into the mirror with trepidation, realizing it was the first time she had truly looked at herself for a long time. She expected that she'd see signs of Huntington's all over her, something to indicate the impeding short life span that was certainly her fate. Anything at all to age her or make her seem defective.

But she looked fine. Even traces of a hangover could not be perceived without careful scrutiny. Her face was as young and perfect as ever, with those eternal blue eyes staring at her. For some reason, seeing such a beautiful girl staring back at her instead of an aged or deformed woman infuriated Thirteen more than anything else could.

It was just senseless. The genetic disease that she had inherited from her mother that would take her life did not have to exist. She wasn't one of those people like House who just wasted life. She appreciated it, even now, with a hangover and melancholy sensation that refused to leave, she still appreciated being here. She shook her head, unable to stand looking at her young, healthy face that guised a serious genetic malformation.

She threw on clothes without much concern as to what it was she was putting on, and left for work, grabbing her cell phone a few bucks for some decent coffee.

* * *

"I refuse to participate this time," Cameron said," It's beyond sick. That's just morbid Chase."

"No, it's not what you think-"

"No!" she said, looking upset at both Chase and Foreman. They had begun a betting pool on how long it would take Wilson to forgive House.

"It was just a joke! It's not like we were putting real money on it! It was just banter, Cameron." Chase said defensively.

"We both think that they're such good friends, they'll get past it," Foreman included, trying to sugarcoat what appeared to be a pretty dark subject, "We weren't trying to be cruel."

"I know," she said, "It's just that House and Wilson…" Cameron said, so flooded with emotion she was unable to continue.

" It's just that your little bleeding heart doesn't know who to pity more," Chase said, adding quickly when Cameron appeared offended that ," It's sweet. Unnecessary but sweet. You don't have to feel sorry for everyone all the time. They're big boys, Cameron. They can take care of themselves. "

"Well, at least one of them can," she said.

"Don't tell me you're getting an itch for House again, are you?" Foreman said with that teasing smile of his.

"No, most girls don't get that until after they sleep with him," Cameron retorted. She then looked at both of them, and said in a more serious tone," Actually, I don't feel that way about him anymore. Not even a little," she said. Chase stared at her briefly, the part of him still in amor with Cameron that was always kept suppressed dared to emerge from his eyes. He quickly darted them away.

"Got to go. Surgery and lives to save and all that daily routine stuff is calling. Come get me if you need some gauze or stitches for that bleeding heart," Chase said with a smile as he scurried away. Cameron rolled her eyes, determined that she would not visit House repeatedly like she had been doing, just to prove to Chase and Foreman that she was not a "bleeding heart."

_Well…I won't get caught doing it anyway,_ she thought with a smile.

* * *

"And so I told House that it isn't being hopeless optimistic to believe there is some life after death. I mean sure, there isn't hardcore proof that there is something, but there certainly isn't any hardcore proof that there isn't anything," Kutner said to Thirteen as they paid for coffee in the hospital cafeteria. She had already finished her decent coffee, and when she ached for more to drive away her pulsating hangover, Kutner had offered to pay. But listening to him babbling when she could barely function a simple conversation almost wasn't worth the price.

"You sound just like Wilson," she said, then paused. "Isn't the fact that there isn't any proof of a god proof that there isn't a god?"

"You sound just like House," Kutner replied," and no, I don't believe so. But considering the fact that you look like uttering another syllable to this debate will cause you to slap me, I'll call it a stalemate."

"Very wise choice," she said, "and speaking of House, how is he?"

"He's doing pretty well. He actually asked for you, as a matter of fact," Kutner said a little suspiciously.

"That's odd. Was he delirious, or was he just about to make some joke about me?" she said, thinking about the blow up doll reference he'd made a few days ago.

"No, he seemed genuinely worried. That's what kinda weirded me out," Kutner said. He looked at Thirteen as though he were about to launch into a tedious interrogation or anecdote, but he just gave her a brief smile.

_Does he know?_ Thirteen thought, but decided against it. House wouldn't stoop so low as to tell everyone she was sick. He just…wouldn't do it. They had an a nonverbal agreement that he would not mention it to anyone, at least, that's what she had sensed when they were in that room and he uttered "I didn't know."

But then again, she had misinterpreted him before, and she'd seen him do more unethical things than spread gossip. But still, it would be so unlike House to do something like that behind her back…

"Did he mention anything about me to you?" she said carefully choosing her words to make the question as vague as possible.

"No. He just told me he wanted to see you."

"Oh," she said, a little relieved, "Well, okay then."

"Is there something wrong that you want to tell me about?" Kutner asked.

"No," she said.

"No there is nothing wrong, or no there is nothing you want to tell me about?"

"No, there is nothing I want to tell you about, "she said, trying to sound firm to convince both him and herself she really did not want to divulge.

"Point taken," Kutner said, sounding slightly offended. Thirteen was just about to begin an apology when Cameron approached them.

"How is House doing?" Cameron asked.

"He's fine" Kutner replied, "In fact, Thirteen was just on her way to see him. You should go together."

"I was?" Thirteen asked with a slightly caustic tone.

"Forgive her, she has a hangover, and combine that with her impeccable morning personality and you've got yourself one cheery doctor."

"I'm not _that_ worried about House," Cameron lied, "I mean, I saw him yesterday but I was just wondering if there were any changes."

"I am actually on my way to see him," Thirteen said, considering what Kutner had told her about how House had been asking for her. She wondered if he was just being a pain or if there really was something important he wanted to tell her.

"Oh, okay. I'm not that worried," Cameron emphasized.

"I know. You already said that," Thirteen said with a smile as they began walking towards his room. Cameron's face reddened, but her blush slowly faded as they strolled through the hospital's corridors, both of them wishing to insinuate with their leisurely pace that it was just a casual visit and that neither of them was really worried. During this walk, small talk ensued deviating from the original topic of House to vaguer, "safe" subjects as medicine. Until Cameron innocently asked, "So why did you decide to become a doctor?"

"That's kind of a personal question." Cameron waited for her to elaborate, lifting her eyes to Thirteen's face in anticipation.

"To help people. Why else?" Thirteen said.

"There has to be more to it than that," Cameron said, sensing that she was suppressing an honest answer.

Thirteen shrugged. Not wanting to stir tension in the conversation she added, "That's the gist of it anyway."

"Did you ever want to be anything else?"

"Nope."

"Oh c'mon, you didn't even pause to think about it."

"I really never wanted to be anything else than what I am."

"You must feel accomplished," Cameron said with a smile.

"Yeah, you'd think I would," Thirteen said in a voice so low she was almost speaking to herself. Cameron's face expressed a slight concern, but they had reached House's room and their conversation seemed to come to a close on that note.

"Wow, what a coincidence. I was just thinking about both of you." House said.

"That's sweet," Cameron said.

"With a bottle of chocolate syrup and whipped cream-"

"You could have stopped right there," Cameron said, her tone slightly more irritated.

"You told Kutner you wanted to see me?" Thirteen asked.

"We can talk later," he said, shifting his eyes towards Cameron as though indicating her presence prevented him from bringing up whatever subject it was he wished to discuss. This gesture was not unnoticed by Cameron.

"What is it?" Cameron asked," Something's wrong. I can tell by the way you two are acting. Is something else wrong with House? "

Cameron looked helpless with those pleading eyes.

"It's not me," he said slowly, "it's Thirteen."

"Shut up." Thirteen said, louder and sharper than she intended.

"What is it?" Cameron asked, her voice still fraught with concern. She looked at Thirteen who was on the verge of tears she was only able to suppress by years of practice.

"Why are you doing this?" Thirteen asked House, anger emerging in her voice.

"If anyone should know, it's her."

"No one should know."

"You can't live in denial."

"Why not? I've been doing it for awhile now, and I think I've gotten pretty good at it."

"I could tell the moment you stepped in her you have a hangover and are sleep deprived. You don't seem to be handling it very well."

"I can handle it just fine."

A long pause followed. Cameron felt misplaced, as though she were eavesdropping on a conversation she was not meant to hear. Thirteen was furious, not solely at House but at her entire situation.

"Do whatever you want," she said as she stormed out of the room. Cameron felt compelled to go after her, but House grabbed her by the wrist. Not that he was physically capable of restraining her, but the mere gesture made Cameron halt.

"Why did you do that to her?" Cameron asked.

"Because she's a liar."

"What do you mean?"

"She's lying to herself. She can't accept what's happening to her. That's why she told me. Because by telling me, the one person she would most definitely not tell a secret to, she is able to convince herself it's not real."

"Or maybe she trusted you. And you just betrayed her."

Cameron turned to leave.

"Don't you want to know what's wrong with her?"House asked.

"She'll tell me if she wants me to know."

"No she won't. That's kind of the point."

"We'll see," Cameron said as she walked out of the room.

**Author's Note: She still doesn't know! Ahhh!! Anyway, Cameron's so sweet, I just love her character. You'll find out more why House wanted to tell Cameron about Thirteen's condition on the next chapter I am working on right now. ******


	5. Revelation

"Go away," Thirteen said. She had revisited the same stall she went to when she was upset over Amber's accident, and House had come to convince her to get tested. The memory of that event did not ease her pain, but she didn't realize she was in that particular stall until she noticed the same crack in one of the tiles that had been there before. Suddenly she wanted to go home, to get out of the hospital with all of its memories and familiar settings. She wanted to crawl into bed and escape the day through sleep. Her hangover had begun to wane, but she still longed for the solace sleep could bring.

She did not wish for the interrogation she was getting from Cameron, who was outside of the stall trying to convince her to get out.

"I just wanted you to know that House didn't tell me anything."

Silence. And then Thirteen asked, "Why not?"

"I asked him not to."

"Why?"

"I told him that if you wanted to tell me you would tell me yourself."

"Well that was nice," Thirteen said weakly. Cameron smiled.

"House did have a good point though. If you are in some kind of denial about what's happening to you, whatever it is, it can make you feel better to talk to someone."

"I did."

"Someone who isn't House."

Thirteen half-heartedly smiled. She wadded up the Kleenex that had in her hand and tossed in the toilet. She stared at the crack in the tile. That same damn crack she had stared at just moments before she considered getting tested.

_Oh why did I listen to House's advice?_ She thought.

"Let me help you." Cameron said, her voice sounding so sympathetic, so sweet it made Thirteen emotionally ache not to open the door.

"You seem like a really nice person," she said, "Please go away."

* * *

Cameron contemplated the words again and again.

_You seem like a really nice person. Please go away._

It was House all over again. Why did people push away kindness? It seemed like the more she tried to help, the more people tossed her aside. But it wasn't self-pity Cameron felt, not really. She didn't appreciate being told to go away, but Thirteen's voice, her pathetic, melancholy voice occasionally broken by sobs broke her heart. Cameron felt confused and sympathetic. This mystery problem…how severe was it? And why, oh why had she told _House, _of all people?

"She didn't tell you," House said.

"No, she didn't" Cameron admitted.

"Do you want me to tell you now?"

"No"

"Liar."

"I'm not lying. I want to know, but I don't want to invade her privacy."

"She has Huntington's."

Cameron froze, held immobile by the words. She felt full-body shock consume her, unable to articulate a single thought in her mind. Her face revealed all the thoughts that she could not utter out loud.

"What?" Cameron said, "Huntington's? But that's…"

"A genetic disease that generates within-"

"I know _what_ it is I just can't believe…Thirteen. That's why she's been so upset. Poor Thirteen."

"She told me because she didn't have anyone else to tell, obviously. But you, could actually help her."

"You betrayed her by telling me. Why did you have to make it worse for her? Why do you make everything worse?"

House flinched. Cameron immediately regretted her choice of words. She apologized, but House interrupted her.

"No, you're right. I usually do. I screwed up big time with Wilson. He'll never forgive me."

"Yes he will."

"No, he won't. Eventually he'll give some semblance of forgiveness to me, because he's like you. He's this decent person, and he knows that I did everything to save her once I'd already screwed up. But inside he'll never really forgive me. I wouldn't forgive me."

"Wilson will forgive you. He loves you, House. You don't understand that but he'll realize that it wasn't you fault."

"It was my fault. I'm not the one in denial here. I screwed up. And I can't do_ anything_ to fix what happened. And I can't stop what is going to be a painful, slow death for Thirteen-"

"House," Cameron said, "Please stop. Why did you tell me this?"

"Because Huntington's isn't the only thing that runs in her family."

"What do you mean?"

"Suicide has worked its way into the Hadley family tree more than once. And she lives alone, works all the time-"

"No. House, no. She's not like that."

"How would you know? Do you know her? Do you really know her? What's her favorite color?"

"Don't be a jerk."

"Do you even know her first name?" he asked more seriously.

Cameron paused.

"So what do you want me to do?" she said, "Admit her into counseling? Be her best friend? Tell her it's okay she's going to die?"

"Or just watch her to make sure she doesn't commit suicide."

"Why me? Why don't you do it?"

"_Hello._ Kind of immobile here. And besides, you're the one that's all into that hallmark caring thing. It's what you do. You care and stuff."

"I care and stuff." Cameron repeated.

"Please," House said, "Do this. Watch her. Not for me, for her. And I never say please."

"You never say please," Cameron agreed. She shook her head, slightly frustrated at the helplessness and the pain they all beared. There had been enough tragedy in the last 48 hours to last someone a lifetime. She sighed, and finally agreed to help Thirteen, unable to say no. Once again, unable to turn away.

**Author's Note: I thought that since House felt guilty over Amber's death (which I do not feel he was really responsible for) he might try to make up for it by helping Thirteen. Hopefully that makes it seem more plausible that he would be sympathetic and try to help her.**


	6. Visiting Thirteen's Place

**FYI: I considering titling this chapter "Thirteen's Crib," but for some reason, I went for the more sophisticated title. ;)**

Against her better judgment, Cameron followed House's advice and drove past Thirteen's house to see how she was coping. Then she drove by it again. And again.

_I'm officially a stalker! _She thought. Anxiety crept through her veins. Here she was, about to knock on her door to check on her, but she wanted to do it without informing Thirteen of her true intentions for visiting. She'd felt so proud when she told Thirteen that she'd stood up to House and refused to listen to him blurt out Thirteen's secret. To tell her the truth now would be hypocritical, and she figured she would probably lose her respect.

_So how am I going to explain this? Hey Thirteen, what's up? I know we don't know each other very well-hell, I don't even know your first name, but could you please let me in and notify me if you have any intentions of self infliction. Thanks._

Somehow, Cameron made her way to the front steps of Thirteen's house. The house itself was pretty and jovial. Pastel yellow walls contrasted greatly with the mood generated by the objects on her front porch. She noticed an unkempt yard, a few flower pots with withering plants, and decaying vines that had grown and entwined themselves on one of her windows, and the absence of a welcome mat. An ominous sensation tiptoed inside of her. But before she could rid herself of it, or even take a moment to collect her thoughts, Thirteen opened the door.

"Hi," Cameron gasped in surprise, slightly startled by the abruptness of Thirteen's action.

"Can I help you?" Thirteen replied. She appeared anxious, as though expecting an important delivery or was excessively busy.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No actually. Well that depends. I was just about to get inordinately drunk and watch reruns. If you have something you need me to do that would interrupt this priority plan, I might have to get back you later."

"Well…" Cameron hesitated, trying to explain her visit. She thought she'd just be honest, just withhold a detail or so, without giving everything away. "You were really upset today, and I was wondering if you were ready to talk about it now."

Thirteen's eyes briefly widened and her face became serious as the surprise took ahold of her.

"You came by…to check on me?"

"I guess so." Cameron said, her voice full of sincerity. That same sympathetic voice that had comforted Thirteen earlier when she was sobbing hysterically in the bathroom. The voice that filled her with serenity for a few moments when the world seemed so daunting and insane. Realization set in. Someone had noticed that her world was crashing down.

"You came by to check on me," Thirteen said mostly to herself, accepting the idea as she spoke it out loud." She looked so lost in her own thoughts that Cameron felt slightly awkward and began to blush. As she waited for Thirteen to say something else, Cameron had the opportunity to study her features up close. Her dark hair made her pale skin more noticeable, but her complexion was flawless, like a model flawless. Her eyes that Cameron had noticed before and again and again looked even more beautiful up close. It was easier to get lost in her eyes when they weren't talking about medicine or passing each other in a hospital hallway. They were so iridescent, especially as the fading sunlight reflected on them.

Finally after much introspective deliberation she merely asked Cameron, "Why?"

"Because," she said, thinking about why House had selected her to watch out for Thirteen. Thinking about why she had been the only one he told. And why he had been so persistent.

"Because I care" Cameron said, "It's what I do. I care about people. That's why I became a doctor too."

Thirteen smiled. "Oh, surely there must be more to it than that," she teased, sarcastically imitating the way Cameron had pestered her to open up and reveal the real reason she became a doctor.

"Well, I can't exactly elaborate while I'm standing out here. Aren't you going to invite me inside?"

"Sure. Come in. By the way, I saw you drive by my house a couple times. It was kind've creepy."

"Yeah, well, I was sort of nervous. Sorry about that."

Thirteen shrugged. "I was just glad when you came out of the car that you weren't a group of teenage boys about to raid the place or my creepy neighbor."

Cameron smiled. "Thanks. I guess that's a compliment."

Thirteen stepped aside so Cameron could enter. The inside of the house wasn't quite as dreary as the porch, with sentimental photographs and knickknacks that lightened the atmosphere, but the house was very messy. Things were scattered everywhere, dust was thick on may of the tables, and the place appeared overall very uncared for.

"You live in this?" Cameron said, stepping over a pile of medical journals and clothes that were next to the couch.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to clean the place up. I've been kind of a slob lately. Want something to drink? And I wasn't kidding about the alcohol; I've got winecoolers and stuff to make mixed drinks with."

"When did you become an alcoholic? I bet it was after you started working for House!" Cameron joked.

"Actually, yeah. But I'm not an alcoholic. Not really. It's just lately, I figure why not?" She said.

Cameron poked around, taking this opportunity to try to get Thirteen to reveal more information about herself.

"Why do you say that?" Cameron asked.

"I just mean, well, I mean why not? Life's too short to not do something you want to do. I mean…Amber," she replied, as though that single word explained everything. They made eye contact as she said this, and in a way, it explained everything that Thirteen was thinking, and adequately conveyed this meaning to Cameron as well.

"Anyway, you want a drink?" Thirteen asked.

"Just a coke if you have one."

"Sure," she said. She zigzagged to the kitchen, carefully avoiding knocking stuff over or steeping on anything. She opened the door and retrieved a coke and the several alcoholic drinks.

"I said I didn't want any-"

"They're for me," Thirteen replied. She put them on a nearby table and handed the soda to Cameron.

"Amber's death really affected you, huh?"Cameron said.

"Yeah, I guess. I didn't know her that well." Thirteen admitted. She looked at Cameron. "How do you feel about it?"

"I don't know. I didn't really know her that well either. I guess it was like hearing about someone dying on the news. It's shocking, but that's about it."

"Yeah," Thirteen agreed, taking a drink. And another.

"So why did you become a doctor?" Thirteen asked.

"I told you, because I care about people. The same reason you become one."

"I didn't tell you I became a doctor because I care about patients. I do, but that's not why."

"You said you liked helping people," Cameron responded, then hesitated. She looked at the photos of Thirteen as a child with an older looking woman that looked so much like her, it must have been her mother. Cameron looked around. In all of the photos, Thirteen couldn't have been older that seven of eight. There wasn't a recent photo of them anywhere.

"Was there one person you couldn't help?" Cameron asked gently, making eye contact with the photo of the young little girl Thirteen had been.

"Two, actually," Thirteen said, "Not that it's any of your business." Her tone had abruptly changed, becoming harsher and less consenting to divulge into the past.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," Cameron admitted. She noticed Thirteen's hand tremble ever so slightly. If it hadn't been for the drink in her hand, tilting the jar ever so slightly as to cause the alcohol to stir back and forth, Cameron may not have noticed.

"Did House switch your coffee to regular again?" Cameron asked.

"You noticed the trembling too?" she asked, concern expressed in the way her eyes widened and the way her eyebrows inclined slightly. She stared at her hand as though it was an entity separate from her, and she was merely an outside observer monitoring its movement. At last she said, "I'm sure it's nothing."

"Yeah," Cameron agreed too quickly, her head bobbing up and down in confirmation. They were both playing a game with lies and deceit, each humoring each other's best effort to hide the truth. Thirteen considered asking Cameron again if House had revealed her secret, but she was too uncomfortable with the answer she might have received. Cameron wanted to meddle in Thirteen's secrets, the result of her unyielding character traits of curiosity and concern. But she didn't want to push her away. She changed the subject to something casual.

"Do you have anything to eat? I'm starving."

"Um, no," Thirteen said, a guilty smile emerging on her lips. "I wasn't expecting guests."

"To be honest, after a good look at this place, I could have predicted that. Why don't we go get something to eat? My treat."

"Okay," Thirteen agreed, stumbling over the arm of the couch as she did so. "But I think you should drive."


	7. More Drunk Thirteen

"I knew it!" Thirteen said accusingly, a small smile emerging. She shook her head and started laughing. Really laughing. Not a fake giggle like when one of her patients tries to crack a joke at an inappropriate moment or a small sarcastic laugh whenever Kutner or Taub do something stupid. It was an authentic, purely happy laugh. She laughed so hard, she almost forget what was so funny, and then she laughed at that.

"You are so drunk," Cameron said, stating the obvious, smiling a little.

"But at least I'm a happy drunk. Tonight anyway," Thirteen said, her voice a little more sober, a little more serious. She stared at her mixed drink, a cosmopolitan or margarita or some strange combination of fruity "sophisticated" drinks combined that would surely leave her with a throbbing headache the next day.

"Thank God I have tomorrow off," Thirteen said, sighing and leaning back against the soft cushion of her chair.

"Me too," Cameron said, "I've only had a third of what you drank tonight, and I'm still anticipating a hell of a hangover tomorrow."

"You have tomorrow off too?" Thirteen said incredulously, her exaggeration of the statement the result of an abundance of alcohol in her system. "You know what we should do?" She asked with a devious smile.

"What?" Cameron asked, beginning to blush a little at the thoughts that were coming to her mind.

"We should order another round."

"You know, as doctor yourself, I shouldn't have to advice you against drinking so much."

"Live a little," Thirteen said with an irresistible smile. Her head tilted slightly as she said this, her hair pushed to one side, her aquatic eyes fixed directly on Cameron.

_She could be a model the way she just naturally strikes a pose,_ Cameron thought. _She even looks beautiful when she's drunk._

Thirteen's appearance did not only catch the Cameron's attention, but the bartender's as well. He looked to be about twenty-two at most, and had long bleach blond hair that looked professionally styled.

"I'll have another." Thirteen said.

"I should cut you off," he said, but he complied and gave Thirteen another fruity alcoholic drink.

"Thanks. Put it on the tab."

"No baby, for you, it's on the house."

"She's not your baby," Cameron said, rolling her eyes at the immature flirt. Both Thirteen and the bartender laughed, Thirteen a little more enthusiastically.

"What's her problem?" The bartender asked, still in a jovial mood.

"You pissed my girlfriend off," Thirteen said, attempting to conjure a serious face, but failing miserably.

"Oh, you two are going out? Hot."

"What? No we're-"

"Could you get a drink for her too?" Thirteen asked, suppressing a giggle. Cameron felt her whole body tense up, and her face break into a deep blush. Suddenly she felt uneasy.

"I think we should go," Cameron said.

"Alright," Thirteen agreed," I guess I am getting kind of tired."

They walked towards the door, Thirteen wobbling slightly. Cameron got into the driver's seat and Thirteen slid into the back seat to lay down as Cameron drove her home.

"Try not to get carsick," Cameron said.

Thirteen mumbled something and turned her head to a more comfortable position. She didn't sleep, but she felt very relaxed as the car moved along and the alcohol flowed through her system. By the time Cameron pulled into Thirteen's driveway, she was almost in a meditative state.

"We're home," Cameron said.

"Okay," Thirteen said, opening the door and stumbling as she got out.

"Here, let me help," Cameron said. She walked her to the door, and Thirteen responded with, "Thanks, but it's not necessary."

"Why did you tell the bartender we were going out?"Cameron suddenly asked, the thought just coming to her out of no where.

"What? You're still thinking about that?" Thirteen said, laughing a little.

"Well?" Cameron asked.

"I don't know. Why not?" Thirteen mumbled. She pulled out her keys, and tried to unlock her door. One key didn't fit, so she tried another. She couldn't tell them apart. It was too dark to see them, and they all felt the same. She continued the process of elimination until her trembling hands dropped the keys on her front porch, right into through the cracks on her porch.

"Damn it," she muttered. She bent over to try to get them, and Cameron knelt down to try to assist her.

"I need something to pull them out with, like a coat hanger or something."

"Well, I don't exactly carry those around with me," Cameron said.

"Damn it," she repeated. She looked around her porch, too tired to see a solution.

"I could sleep on the rug."

"No you're not."

"Hey, it's a nice rug. Don't offend like that."

Cameron glared at her.

"Sorry, just trying to add a little humor."

Thirteen shrugged with an adorable guilty smile.

"Well, I guess you're coming home with me tonight. We'll fish your keys out tomorrow."

They walked back to the car, Cameron driving again, and this time, the long drive to her house did put Thirteen to sleep. She slept silently, so vulnerable looking in her unconscious state. So unlike her usual mysterious facade. _Curled up in the backseat like a little child, _Cameron thought. But Thirteen was relieved off all the pressures and anxieties she felt when awake, all the fears and trepidation she lived with daily. And for the first time in a long time, she was completely at ease.


	8. Thirteen's Shower

Cameron's apartment was inconveniently located on the fourth floor, which meant a long flight of stairs she would have to help Thirteen climb up. She anticipated a great exertion, but luckily Thirteen sobered up enough to at least walk on her own, although Cameron made sure to walk behind her so that she didn't fall. She only stumbled once, and was able to catch herself before toppling over onto Cameron, for which she was grateful.

When they made it to the right floor, Thirteen leaned against the wall and waited for Cameron to lead to the way. Once they reached her place, Cameron opened the door and walked inside. Thirteen followed, and immediately plopped down on the couch.

"Cozy," she said, and sprawled out on the couch, making herself comfortable.

"Hey, you're all gross and dirty from the bar. Take a shower before you get on my couch."

"I don't have any clean clothes."

"You can borrow mine. Please. Shower. Now."

Thirteen smiled. "Care to join me?"

Cameron rolled her eyes, attempting to conceal her embarrassment and tenseness at Thirteen's somewhat tempting suggestion.

"The towels are under the cabinet," Cameron said, gesturing towards the bathroom.

"I'll take that as a no. Too bad." She tossed her hair back and walked into the bathroom. She searched under the cabinets for a towel, and noticed Cameron had all types of hair products, soaps, lotions, and perfumes. She honestly never thought of Cameron as very high maintenance, but then again, how well did she really know her? Thirteen shrugged and started sniffing all the products to find the ones she liked best. She giggled when one of the bottles opened too quickly and squirted up into her nose. She eventually settled on a Jasmine Vanilla Shampoo and Conditioner, and some exotic scented soap that had a matching lotion with it.

She stepped into the shower and yelped when the water came spewing out exceedingly cold. She turned the nozzle to warm and stepped back as she waited for the temperature to adjust. She turned it hotter and hotter until it was the perfect relaxing temperature, and then she stood there and let the hot drops of liquid spray down her shoulders, sliding down between her breasts and making her body feel warm and relaxed and excited at the same time. Her soapy hand glided up her thighs almost automatically, without her really consciously aware she was doing it. She moved her hands over her crotch, and slipped a finger inside of herself, the sweet perfume of the soap making her aroused and lightheaded as she gently began to massage herself. She flicked her finger in small rotating motions, gradually gaining speed as she began to get more excited. The hot water, the alcohol, the exciting thought that she was becoming aroused in someone else's house added to her excitement. As the jasmine vanilla scent grew stronger, she found her thoughts drifting towards Cameron, towards her curvy sexy 

body, her soft skin, the cute expression of embarrassment she had at the bar, the way it would feel to touch her breasts and suck on her nipples...

"Oh...oh...," Thirteen murmured as she felt herself become enraptured in an orgasm. She moaned, leaning on one of the tiled walls in the shower to keep from falling over as she felt pleasure overcome her. Her whole body shook and after the sensation faded away from her body, she felt exhausted and satisfied. Thirteen finished her shower and dried off with a fluffy white towel. She wrapped it around her body and opened the bathroom door. Cameron was standing right outside with a pair of fresh clothes.

"Um, here," she said, handing the clothes to Thirteen, her cheeks tinged with red. As Thirteen walked out of the bathroom, Cameron went inside and immediately shut the door. Thirteen wondered if she might have been spying on her, or if she may have accidently overheard her little adventure in the shower, but quickly tossed these thoughts aside as unimportant.

She looked at the couch and saw that Cameron had laid out a pillow and blanket for her to sleep on the couch. She smiled and thought Cameron's effort to haphazardly prepare a place for her to rest was sweet. However, she walked into Cameron's room and after putting her clothes on, she got into Cameron's bed and curled up next to one of the pillows, the soft mattress and warm sheets causing her to fall asleep before Cameron could even get out of the shower.


	9. Cameron's Decision

Cameron wandered to the bathroom door when she though she heard Thirteen saying something. When she approached the door, all she heard was a small, low moan concealed by the louder sound of water spewing out of the showerhead. But it sounded like…

_No. That can't possibly be what I heard…_

Cameron stood there a moment longer, and was startled when Thirteen opened the door. She could have sworn Thirteen wore a little smile on her lips, and even anticipated her saying something along the lines of "I told you should have joined." But there was no smart ass remark, and Cameron handed her clothes and darted into the bathroom as soon as thirteen was out. She shut the door stood there for a moment, looking around. She stripped naked, took a quick shower, and wrapped a towel around herself as she walked out of the bathroom. Then she groaned.

She was standing in her own room, wrapped in a towel, dripping wet, and was about to select something to wear to sleep when she noticed the intruder in her bed. So now she was faced with the humiliating choice of kicking a sleeping person out of her bed or resigning the battle and just going to sleep on her own couch.

_Or…_

Cameron's mind began a stealthy route into more devious thoughts.

"No," she told herself before she could even complete the thought. She reached into her top drawer and pulled out a pair of panties. Thirteen rolled over in bed, startling Cameron who almost shoved it back in the drawer instinctively. Then she rolled her eyes and criticized herself for being so immature. She yanked out the rest of her clothes and headed to her bathroom to change.

She was fuming. Having to change clothes in her own bathroom because she was kicked out of her own room! The thought brought a scowl of indignation. At the same time, seeing Thirteen in her own bed, laying under her covers sleeping made her feel…excited? Something to that effect, she was sure. Yet no matter how annoyed she was, she couldn't maintain that feeling when she looked at Thirteen laying there. She admitted to herself she wanted to slip under the covers with Thirteen in her bed tonight, and as she looked at her small, uninviting couch, the thought was even more tempting.

She also contemplated Thirteen's' reaction to it. The only possible reactions she could imagine would be Thirteen waking up and either freaking out, or worse, coming up with some sarcastic remark like "Good morning, lover" and then having to endure constant teasing from her as well as everybody else at work. Despite Cameron's logical approach to the decision that told her it was a bad idea, her desire was too strong to not at least toy with the decision to sleep with Thirteen.

After putting on a pair of pink pajamas that had a cute v-neck top and mid-calf shorts, she walked back into her bedroom and stared at Thirteen. She watched her chest move up and 

down as she breathed, her eyes flutter as she approached REM cycle, and her arms tighten around the pillow she was cuddling.

Cameron knew it wasn't a big deal for two women, two platonic friends, to sleep in the same bed. She'd done it hundreds of times with friends since elementary school through college. It was just the fear that this time, with her, it might feel different.

_It already does feel different, _she thought. She slid into bed, staying as far away from Thirteen's body as she could, teasing herself and testing her feelings. She continued to look at Thirteen who was hugging her pillow, and realized she was afraid she might wake up, or worse, Thirteen might wake up, and feel her arms cuddled around Thirteen's soft waist.

She almost changed her mind and went to the couch, but then Thirteen released a broken sob.

"Thirteen?" Cameron said. No response. She leaned over to look at Thirteen's face and saw that it was buried in a pillow. She heard her clear her voice as though she'd been crying.

"What's wrong?" Cameron asked, her hand stroking Thirteen's shoulder. She looked up and her teary eyes confirmed Cameron's suspicions.

"I don't know," she said, realizing how stupid that sounded as she said it. She felt like she was a child again. Cameron scooted over to her and continued comforting her, although consciously trying to maintain some space between them. Thirteen easily sabotaged that plan by both snuggling closer into Cameron's inviting arms, and looking so beautiful and helpless Cameron couldn't help but be drawn to her.

Before she had time to consciously consider the decision, her instincts consumed her reason, and she kissed Thirteen.

**Author's Note: Have any of you ever cried in your sleep before? It's so annoying right? I wake up and if I'm in bed with someone they are like "What's wrong?" And I feel like I'm five when I respond with "Um, I guess I had a bad dream?" Anyway, more chapters soon, I promise.**


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